Get Together, Have a Few Laughs
by luvsanime02
Summary: Clint's used to recuperating from an injury on his own, not hosting the Avengers in his living room.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Marvel comics or characters or movies, and am making no money off of this fic.

**AN: **Written for the October 18th Spooktober prompt: sleepover.

########

**Get Together, Have a Few Laughs** by luvsanime02

########

Clint's sitting on his couch with his leg in a cast, and he wishes that this was a new experience for him. Sadly, it's anything but. Especially as a result of a mission. Clint's had plenty of injuries and quite a few broken limbs over the years, and he doubts that this habit will stop anytime soon.

It's not like Clint does things like this on purpose or anything, but the fights that he's involved in sometimes contain unexpected explosions, and then a building comes down and Clint's too busy trying to save people to pay much attention to shifting rubble, and then he falls down into a dank basement and his leg's bending in a way that no leg should ever bend.

The worst part about the whole thing was actually when Tony picked Clint up and flew him out of there, and everyone cheered like Clint was just another civilian and Tony the strapping hero. Clint's a superhero, too. He just doesn't travel around in a fancy suit or grow big and green or have super-strength.

Never mind that Natasha doesn't have any of those things either, as far as Clint knows, and yet she managed not to break a limb. Got her back burned by falling metal, yes, but all of her limbs were pointing in the right direction at the end of the fight.

Since Clint's used to things like this happening to him, he hadn't spent too long in the hospital, and had insisted on going home. Clint can recuperate on his own couch and get his own food just fine.

He's really not expecting a knock on his door, and Clint wonders if whoever's on the other side will just go away. Maybe if he wishes really, really hard…

"Hey, Hawk-dude! Open up," someone demands. A familiar someone. Tony Stark, of all people, and Clint sighs. Tony won't go away if Clint just wishes hard enough. Not if he took the effort to come all the way here in the first place.

Clint hobbles to his feet and hops to the door, because crutches are for losers, and unlocks it. He blinks at seeing not just Tony, but everyone else on the team, too. Except Natasha, for some reason. Clint's too distracted by Tony breezing past him to ask the others where she is, though.

"Alright, everyone," Tony announces, clapping his hands together like a mad scientist - which isn't all that far off from the truth, "let's get the blankets set out and a movie going."

"What," Clint says, turning around then and spotting Natasha already curled up on his couch even though he never saw her come in. He's not even surprised.

"Sleepover," Bruce announces, quietly shutting the door behind everyone. Thor is in Clint's apartment now. This is either the best or the worst day of Clint's life.

Well, not the worst. Bad, though. Maybe.

"Sleepover," Clint repeats, and raises an eyebrow at, well, everyone, hoping that someone will start explaining things so that this day makes sense.

"Which one do you want to watch first?" Steve asks, ignoring Clint's look. "Rambo or Die Hard?"

Have they not dealt with enough explosions lately? Clint doesn't ask this out loud, but he's sure thinking it hard enough that someone should hear him anyway. Watching action movies right now is probably tempting fate, or something.

Still. "Die Hard," Clint answers, because he's never passed on a chance to watch Bruce Willis in his life, and he's not about to start now.

Natasha pats the couch next to her in a silent demand to sit, and blankets are being thrown down on Clint's living room floor, and he officially gives up. Nothing makes sense right now, but when does it ever? If the other Avengers want to have a sleepover in Clint's small apartment instead of Tony's huge building with all of the latest cutting-edge technology, then who is he to argue?

Clint flops down, and Natasha throws a blanket over them both. She hands him some chips, and Clint munches on them automatically. Steve and Bruce are hilariously trying to politely let each other sit in the one armchair in Clint's apartment, except Tony steals the seat while they're preoccupied, and Thor is already sprawled out on Clint's floor, which isn't a sight he thought he'd ever see, honestly.

Clint would have been fine recuperating on his own, but he's definitely not going to complain about watching a few movies and having a sleepover with his teammates if they're going to be so insistent on coming over to his place and setting everything up for him.

Things could be worse, Clint admits, and settles in for a relaxing night with the others.


End file.
